


on this side of the grave again

by FeralCreed



Category: Avengers: Endgame - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Butterfly Effect, I don't know what I'm doing and you can't stop me, Post-Canon, Ragnarok references, actions have consequences, complete disrespect for canon and its rules, references to Odin's A+ parenting, there's little bits of comic canon in here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: Basically I refuse to believe that Thor would leave Asgard without warning his mother that she's going to be killed. And I want to believe that undoing Thanos' actions included bringing Loki back to life. So the basic premise for this is that Infinity Stone fuckery resulted in Loki remembering Frigga's death, but Frigga not actually being dead. Loki, upon being resurrected, wanders around the galaxy for a while before finding out she's alive.





	on this side of the grave again

It hasn't been five years for Loki. He can't remember it being more than a moment, between the soft darkness filling his mind and his eyes opening again. He's floating in space. There's a brief moment where the weightlessness appeals to him, before he makes an instinctive attempt to breathe. It doesn't work, and he panics for a moment before teleporting to the pocket dimension he made for himself years ago. It's not much bigger than his cell on Asgard was, but it has air.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wonders what in the Nine Realms just happened. Of course, he knows he died. He remembers Thanos' hand around his neck. That fleeting, stupid wish that he'd made time to apologise to his brother. And then there had been nothing. It made no sense, but he could easily guess that he'd somehow been awakened at the same place that he'd died. The debris must have moved since and left him on his own.

So where does that leave him? For once, he's not sure, and it's rather unsettling. He needs to know how long has passed since his death, he decides. He can work everything else out from there. A moment later he's a brunette woman, in a green long-sleeved shirt and black pants. Loki's not stupid. He's supposed to be dead, and until he knows more about whatever has become reality in his absence, it's probably best if he's not himself.

She attracts little attention as she steps out onto Knowhere. It's the kind of place where people ask strange questions and do strange things without being remembered. And you can find out about anything if you know where to look. The place is busy, as always, but she overlooks the general masses.

The place itself is of far more interest. If she didn't know better, she'd say the place had been put to flame and then rebuilt. She must have been gone a long time if that's true. Years. Maybe even decades. She's... dismayed at that, she realises. Most of the people and places that exist mean nothing to her, much less their petty little problems. But it's different now that she's the one so dramatically affected.

She leaves the main avenues of travel, her appearance shifting again as she passes through a back alley. A blond Xandarian, illusioned to walk with a limp. There's enough noise around that there's no use in putting in effort to make his footsteps sound uneven as well. He opens the door to the first bar he comes to, leans in close to the bartender, and asks about Thanos. He leaves twenty minutes later still in disbelief that he's been gone for six years.

Thor will have truly believed him dead this time, he realises as his illusion falls away, and he wonders if maybe it's for the better. After all, on Sakaar, Thor made it clear that there was nothing left between them. He probably should have seen it coming. Thor had said when they were children that he wanted to kill all of the Frost Giants. Called them monsters. Why would he want one for a brother?

It hurts more than he'd admit to think of hatred in Thor's eyes.

And now he doesn't know where to go. Asgard was destroyed, Jotunheim had never been home to him, and Midgard will doubtlessly try hunting him down as soon as it knows he's alive. Muspelheim and Svartalfheim are too dangerous to go to on his own. He'd never been very fond of any of the other realms, either. Truthfully, Sakaar was one of the places he'd felt most at home, but he knows enough of the Grandmaster to avoid returning there any time soon.

Well, there is far more to the world than the Nine Realms. He can do whatever he wants, now, but for all his adventures and misdeeds, he's always had a home to fall back to. It's still a bit unsettling to know that he is truly alone. But there's also a freedom in it, that he focuses on to drive out the lingering uncertainty. He answers to no one. And now Odin, Thanos, and the Other – the only people he's ever truly been afraid of – are dead.

There is nothing to stop him from doing whatever he likes. For a moment, his thoughts turn wild. Obtaining the Infinity Stones, ruling Asgard, building new worlds. But no, the Stones are gone, and Thor is no doubt the king now. Loki has no desire to imprison or harm him. He can let his brother have his fun. The galaxy has far more to offer him, and he intends to collect. There are millions of worlds, millions of races. What's one more face in the crowd?

He closes his eyes and opens them to a different galaxy.

It's loud. Busy. Full of people. Their shoulders hit his, one hard enough that he's knocked a step forward. He keeps walking. Xandar is not what it used to be, he was told, and so he looked elsewhere. This is a suitable replacement. He doubts he'll stay here for more than a few days. With all the known universe at his disposal, there's no use in lingering in any one place unless he wants to. He can see anything and everything that he desires. Almost. He is still rather annoyed that Thanos destroyed the Stones; it would have been nice to get his hands on the Tesseract again.

But that's not going to happen. He'd regret losing the Tesseract more than all of Asgard if it wasn't for the fact that Asgard's libraries were also destroyed. Thousands of rare and magical volumes, all gone now. It had been tempting to detour and take some of them, when he'd been sent to get Surtur's crown, but ultimately he hadn't had the time.

Pity, that. He could have borrowed the Midgardian tradition of drawing mustaches and glasses on the images of those he didn't like. Odin looked ridiculous enough as it was in all those old portraits. Though he would have had to substitute a monocle, what with the eyepatch and all. Too bad he'd never gotten the idea while Asgard was still standing.

* * *

He finds his way to almost every corner of the universe over the next three years. It's full of unique races, amazing beasts, worlds that he never could have dreamed of. Everything he could have asked for in the palms of his hands. Thor comes to mind, sometimes, and he steals a necklace from a marketplace because the design on the hammer-shaped pendant reminds him of his brother. The metal is always a little bit warmer than his skin, and that reminds him of his brother too.

* * *

Somewhere along the way he finds a little bit of himself too. The Jotuns are just another alien race to the residents of the planets he travels to, and nobody could give a shit about the relations between them and Asgard. He mentions what he truly is to someone, and they give him a confused look before asking what quadrant Jotuns are from. He feels a bit foolish when he realises he expected the entire universe to know.

And he thinks about that encounter for days afterward. There's fear heavy in his throat as he banishes the enchantment that made him look Asgardian and his white skin patches away into blue. He's alone, in a lavish rented room, and he's unable to stop the initial revulsion at seeing himself. But quick on its heels is a soft, tentative acceptance. Is there anything really so wrong about who he is? Everyone he had grown up with had hated Jotuns, but Loki feels a strange sort of peace at seeing himself blue in the mirror.

He leaves the room the next morning with his heart racing in his chest. He's sure that he'll be recognised as a monster, a freak of nature, in seconds. It's hard to catch his breath. But he keeps moving, with one foot in front of the other. Nobody gives him a second glance. By the time he's made it through the city to one of its public plazas, there's a different emotion pressing at his chest. It takes him a moment to place it as elation. There is nothing wrong with him. This is who he's meant to be.

Loki wanders the galaxy as a Jotun, and is surprised when a woman approaches him. She comments on the colour of his eyes, brushes her fingers down the raised marks on his forearm. She calls him beautiful, her words simple and honest. He has had royalty kneeling at his feet, claiming infatuation with words a thousand times more eloquent, but none of it means anything in the face of this.

* * *

It's another year after that before he visits Midgard. By now it's common knowledge that Asgard was destroyed, and many also know where the survivors put down roots. He's not sure what the humans think about their world being noticed by so many, but he suspects that they might not strictly know. After all, they thought that they were the only planet with any life until he attacked them. That had been fifteen years ago and they'd all been so shocked.

He's given up on ever shaking the nightmares that plague him from the Other's torture, but it seems that the city has recovered better than him. He visits as a woman and only spends a few hours seeing what the city looks like. If it weren't for the odd memorial to victims, it would be hard to tell on sight that anything had ever happened. He can't say that he has much regret. When it comes down to it, he's always been self-serving, even when he'd been attacking Midgard on Thanos' behalf.

There had been two paths before him then. Succeed, and receive the power and position he'd always longed for. Fail, and die. He had never expected to be allowed to live, either by Thanos or by Odin, if he was defeated. Both options had been appealing to him at the time. He hadn't thought he'd survive falling from the Rainbow Bridge, and being tortured had hardly increased his desire to live. Now, though...

Well, he's different. That's all he can say with any certainty. But the thinks that if he was threatened, he would fight. And that's all that anyone can say, isn't it?

After New York City, he goes to Tønsberg. He's not terribly impressed with the place. It's small, with only modern human architecture. Nothing about it reminds him of the Asgard that he grew up in. Strangely, that extends to the people, even though he recognises many of them. They don't know him, they have no hatred for him because of his Jotun roots, and he gets nothing more than a few curious glances. Honestly, it's unsettling, and he decides that he's not going to stay much longer.

So he turns to go, and that's when everything changes.

He knows she's dead. He'd begged to be allowed to go to the funeral and destroyed all that he could touch when he'd been denied. There had been no closure, no way he could say goodbye, just overwhelming, violent grief. He'd never forgiven himself for being the one to tell the dark elves how to get into the palace and he'd never forgotten her.

But why is his mother here in New Asgard? Or rather, why is someone who _looks_ like her here? It can't actually be her. She died. Thor wouldn't have lied to him about that, even if he was skilled enough at lying to make him believe it. His mind races trying to make sense of it. No one person has the ability to return people from the dead, not that he's heard of, and what kind of object could-

The Infinity Stones.

Loki knows firsthand that they allow their user to do anything. Travel through time and space, even rewrite reality. And Thor had loved Frigga as deeply as he had. Of course, if he had the chance to bring her back, to save her life, he would have taken it without a second thought. That's just the way his brother is. He's the noble one, the thoughtful one, the perfect son. Loki has never been any of those, but in this one thing, they are exactly alike.

Frigga separates from the people she's with and starts walking along the beach, which is empty apart from a few seagulls running back and forth in the surf. He glances back at the town and realises that practically nobody is outside. This is as good a time as any to speak with her, and likely his only chance without spectators. He lengthens his stride to catch up to her, grateful that she's headed away from the town.

She hears him coming, turns and waits with her hands clasped in front of her. He stops a few feet away. She tilts her head, a gesture he recognises as curiosity, and he realises that he's shown up as a woman and has said nothing to her. No wonder she wants to know what's going on.

In lieu of saying anything, he shapeshifts back into his male self. She's visibly shocked, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, and he suddenly, horribly feels as if he's made a mistake. What was he thinking? She'd probably been glad to be rid of him. Thor had likely never spoken of him again after the necessary mourning period. He'd only ever been a burden on his family, and they'd been free of him for years, only for him to invite himself back into his mother's life and assume she'd be happy to see him.

She opens her mouth to speak and Loki disappears.

* * *

His heart pounds as he stares at the empty space in front of him. Waiting and hoping – praying? – that it will be filled. Frigga was the only other person to know about this pocket dimension. It was one he'd created as a teenager, to hide from Odin, and it had been a constant in his life ever since. When nobody could find him, when no locating spells or threats worked, Frigga knew. She always knew. And she always came. Held out her arms to him and let him vent his frustrations about a world that refused to be kind.

There's a soft noise as Frigga steps into the pocket dimension, and Loki feels himself breaking and mending all at once. For the first time in years, he smiles, and Frigga opens her arms.

New Asgard is nothing but a place to him. He has no attachment to it or its people, and he's sure that they have no fond memories of him. The Allfather's pet Jotun, the deluded little boy thinking he had a chance at the throne and his father's love. As he steps back onto Midgard from the pocket dimension, thoughts of Odin fall away. Frigga's arm is linked with his, and her voice fills his ears as she walks with him along the beach.

She knows he's not ready to speak of anything serious yet. Instead she talks about a planned building project. It won't begin for another few months, until the brighter and warmer weather of spring, she explains. He wonders if she expects him to still be here. When she stops walking and looks out to sea, they both fall silent. The only sound between them is the rolling and crashing of the waves and the raucous annoyance of the gulls. Loki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

 _This place is not home,_ he tells himself.

But she is.

He opens his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a one-shot for now but if there's interest I'll expand it, maybe. There was just an abominable lack of Loki in Endgame. Typically I'm in the "Thanos killed Loki's illusion" camp but I followed closer to canon for the sake of the idea I had.


End file.
